Stop the presses! [Active/Open]
Characters: Yukimi, Eva
Setting: The hallways of Acedia? Moving around, probably.
Time: Day 015
Summary: Yukimi and Eva catch up with each other and carry on a normal conversation. Probably.
Warnings: None yet?
Yukimi was a busy man. It had been a while since he'd had clear goals set, so at first it felt kind of good. He was going to write a newsletter. He had a typewriter, he would interviews the old residents, start collecting information, all that, and then he'd be able to help the flow of information in the house. It was great; for the first time in months, maybe the first time since he'd arrived, he felt like he was doing something useful. At first. But what he'd forgotten in all this time of purposeless wandering is that having a goal and being busy is -- well-- a huge pain in the ass. He was trying to get to as many of the ghosts as he could because god only knows when they'll go all ethereal and homicidal again, trying (in vain) to find something more modern than a typewriter, or at LEAST some carbon paper to make copies with, trying to find someone with a camera or a a substitute darkroom, trying to figure out what language he should be writing in, or if it mattered, and still trying to keep tabs on Ace and Machi just enough that they didn't go die... he'd only been at this a day and he was already getting sick of it. He'd already taken almost 20 pages of notes, by hand, because there was nothing like a tape recorder around.
His hands were cramped-- plural, even the mechanical one had gotten all stiff and jerky from overuse-- and his mind was cluttered. Needless to say, he needed a break. So he took his 20 pages of notes and hauled them all downstairs to the kitchen. It was about time for dinner or something anyway, and he could go for some kind of chicken thing, maybe some risotto or mashed potatoes on the side. Two birds with one stone; it'd take some time to prepare, which was some time away from this shit, and it would be a nice break from the canned food and dried goods they'd been living off upstairs. Machi's hoarding obsession was useful, but not real tasty. The halls were pretty clear-- not too surprising considering how cold it was, anybody in their right mind would be in some bedroom under a hundred blankets-- so he was a bit surprised to see Eva a ways ahead of him.
"Hey!" he jogged to catch up. It was kind of dumb, really, and if he was actually initiating contact with a kid when he didn't have to then he must be seriously starved for attention, but it seemed kind of rude to just ignore her. "Haven't seen you in a while. Headed somewhere?"
Setting: The hallways of Acedia? Moving around, probably.
Time: Day 015
Summary: Yukimi and Eva catch up with each other and carry on a normal conversation. Probably.
Warnings: None yet?
Yukimi was a busy man. It had been a while since he'd had clear goals set, so at first it felt kind of good. He was going to write a newsletter. He had a typewriter, he would interviews the old residents, start collecting information, all that, and then he'd be able to help the flow of information in the house. It was great; for the first time in months, maybe the first time since he'd arrived, he felt like he was doing something useful. At first. But what he'd forgotten in all this time of purposeless wandering is that having a goal and being busy is -- well-- a huge pain in the ass. He was trying to get to as many of the ghosts as he could because god only knows when they'll go all ethereal and homicidal again, trying (in vain) to find something more modern than a typewriter, or at LEAST some carbon paper to make copies with, trying to find someone with a camera or a a substitute darkroom, trying to figure out what language he should be writing in, or if it mattered, and still trying to keep tabs on Ace and Machi just enough that they didn't go die... he'd only been at this a day and he was already getting sick of it. He'd already taken almost 20 pages of notes, by hand, because there was nothing like a tape recorder around.
His hands were cramped-- plural, even the mechanical one had gotten all stiff and jerky from overuse-- and his mind was cluttered. Needless to say, he needed a break. So he took his 20 pages of notes and hauled them all downstairs to the kitchen. It was about time for dinner or something anyway, and he could go for some kind of chicken thing, maybe some risotto or mashed potatoes on the side. Two birds with one stone; it'd take some time to prepare, which was some time away from this shit, and it would be a nice break from the canned food and dried goods they'd been living off upstairs. Machi's hoarding obsession was useful, but not real tasty. The halls were pretty clear-- not too surprising considering how cold it was, anybody in their right mind would be in some bedroom under a hundred blankets-- so he was a bit surprised to see Eva a ways ahead of him.
"Hey!" he jogged to catch up. It was kind of dumb, really, and if he was actually initiating contact with a kid when he didn't have to then he must be seriously starved for attention, but it seemed kind of rude to just ignore her. "Haven't seen you in a while. Headed somewhere?"